“Stop making it so hard to dislike you. You’re the worst. Remind me that you’re the worst.”
I cock an eyebrow. “I’m the worst? Lydia is offended by nail polish. I think she’s the worst.”
Laurel nods and lifts her eyebrows, like she can’t argue with me there.
That gets me back on track. “So what are you doing, going to lunch with her? I told you not to eat or drink anything she has access to.”
“Yeah, but Rafe told me to go to lunch with her. I figured you guys would be on the same page if there was something to worry about.”
Barely stifling a sigh, I murmur, “We’re not on the same page about much lately.”
Laurel’s plump lips turn down in a pout. “I hate that. I don’t want to come between you two.”
“It’s not your fault, it’s his. It’s mine. It’s…” I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. I need to get out of here before she comes down the hall and catches me slipping out of here, though. I might have a hard time explaining why I was locked in a bathroom stall with you, and what with your on-the-spot lying skills, I don’t think you could pick up my slack.”
“You could have just texted me, you know,” she states.
“Didn’t want to leave tracks. Just in case things with Rafe…” I shake my head, since that will only worry her more. “It’s just a precaution. I don’t want to give anyone I work for any new reasons not to trust me right now.”
Worry consumes her big, blue eyes as she looks up at me. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine. Go to the bathroom while you’re in here, and once you get to the restaurant, whatever you do, do not leave the table. Do not
get up to use the bathroom. Do not turn around and look away from your plate or your drink for even a few seconds—and order something sealed in a bottle. I don’t care if it’s not cold.”
“Sin, why are you so worried about this? Is there something I should know?”
“I don’t know yet, okay? I’m trying to figure it out. But until I do, I need to know you’re going to listen to me and be extra cautious. Guard your food and drink like a drunk girl at a frat party watching for some asshole with roofies.”
“That is terrible.”
“People are terrible,” I inform her. “If anything goes wrong, if Lydia starts acting weird and you get a bad feeling, or she asks you to go somewhere off-plan or in her car, if she tries to get you alone for any reason, bail immediately. At that point, get yourself away from her, but calmly. Make an excuse. Go to the bathroom if it’s somewhere like this where you have privacy, and call me or Rafe.”
Eyes wide, she tells me, “You’re scaring me. Should I not be out with her? I can just bail on lunch altogether.”
“I’m sure you will be fine. Like I said, I’m just being cautious. It’s my job to keep Rafe and his interests protected. You are obviously one of his interests.” Her gaze darkens when I add that, which is my intention. “I just want to run through your options now. People don’t always think so clearly in a crisis. I didn’t want you to be in a situation where you didn’t know what to do, and Rafe with his fucking disposition, I’m sure he didn’t prepare you.”
“Great. Thanks for securing Rafe’s property. I won’t eat or drink anything I’ve left unattended. You can go take care of the next item on your to-do list now.”
I hate the feelings I know lie beneath her snide tone. I hate hurting her on purpose, but I’m too tempted to stay. I’m too tempted by too many things I can’t have, too many things I can’t do, so instead of sticking around, that’s exactly what I do.
26
Laurel
I can’t sleep again.
Extensive insomnia-induced Googling led me to the conclusion that it’s probably from the pregnancy. I tell my body to let me sleep as I lie in Rafe’s bed, staring at the high ceiling, but it’s no use. The longer I lie here awake, the more frustrated I get. I can’t seem to get comfortable, so I’m tossing and turning. Not wanting to wake Rafe up, I finally creep out of bed and head downstairs. Maybe a nice, hot cup of lemon tea will soothe my soul and help me sleep.
I brought my phone with me out of habit, but it’s too late to call anyone. Carly is asleep, Mia is asleep, my roommate is… well, if not asleep, then she’s doing other things I would feel icky interrupting.
Sin is probably asleep. Probably with that fucking waitress. If she makes him happy, I guess I can’t kill her, but if she doesn’t, I’m going to grind her up into dog meat. Dumb whore. I hate her face.
I roll out my shoulders, trying to shake off the blanket of sadness those thoughts bring with me. It’s selfish not to want Sin to be happy with anyone but me, but dammit, that’s how I feel. I don’t believe she could make him as happy as I could. He’s just some man to her. He’s more than that to me. Even though I have no basis on which to decide this, I don’t think she deserves him. I think he would be much better off with me.
Sure, the pregnant baby mama of his boss—how could he score higher than that?
In an attempt to take my mind off Sin, I mess around on every app on my phone that stands a chance at holding my attention. They all fail within a few minutes, and I find myself opening up my text messages. His message from a few days ago is still there, telling me to go to the bathroom. There are too many things to get lost thinking about—his concern for my safety, regardless of his insistence that he only cares because it’s his job to. The way he held my hand and looked at my nail polish disproves that bullshit claim. Why would he care what color nail polish I picked out if he didn’t inherently care about everything related to me? He wouldn’t. I reject that logic. Marlena is just a stand-in, a placeholder, what he’s rebounding with since he can’t have me.